


Getting to Know You (More Than I Already Do)

by riddlemesphinx



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Banter, F/M, First Date, Missing Scene, S05e03 Written in the Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlemesphinx/pseuds/riddlemesphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from 5.03: "Written in the Stars". "Lorelai meets his gaze and offers him a small, pleading smile. 'More than we already know each other, Luke. Stuff…well, stuff that two people should know when they start…' She trails off, looking at her lap and not knowing exactly what it is that they’re starting."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to Know You (More Than I Already Do)

“So!” Lorelai chirps, settling into the passenger seat of Luke’s truck. The car itself smells exactly as she remembered it from that first back-and-forth trip to Yale. It smells faintly of diner food, but more of the pancakes-eggs-sausage-syrup stuff than the burgers-fries-tuna melt stuff, which she finds herself appreciating. It smells of leather and the woods and somewhere in there was the tiniest hint of the after-shave that has secretly always driven her crazy. She can’t help but smile.

He ducks his head to look at her, mirroring her smile outright. “So?”

“Well…” she turns to look at him, devious smile in place. His smile wavers and she loves the knowledge that she will always be able to keep him guessing. “It’s our first date.”

Luke gives her an odd look. “I know that.”

“That means,” she begins, pausing for dramatic flair, “that we get to play the First-Date Game!”

“Ah jeez,” he groans. “Are you kidding me? I don’t want to play a game, Lorelai.”

“No, no, this is a fun game! We just ask questions back and forth to get to know one another and we both get to find out really fun things that we didn’t know before!”

A meaningful look passes between them and Lorelai feels her breath catch in her throat, if only for a moment.

“I know you, Lorelai,” he says finally. “You know me. We don’t need to play a game.”

Lorelai meets his gaze and offers him a small, pleading smile. “More than we already know each other, Luke. Stuff…well, stuff that two people should know when they start…” She trails off, looking at her lap and not knowing exactly what it is that they’re starting.

She feels his eyes on her for a few more moments before the truck is thrown into reverse and they finally begin to back out of her driveway. “Fine, ask away.”

“Yes!” she exclaims, turning her head to look at him and clapping her hands excitedly. He glances at her briefly, then rolls his eyes as he turns back to concentrate on the road. She thinks for a moment before beginning the game. “Okay. Hmm. Who…who is your biggest role model?”

“That’s what you’re asking?” He sounds skeptical. “Uh, well…I guess I’d have to say my dad.”

“I _knew_ you’d say that.”

“Then what’s the point of the game?” he teases.

“No, come on! Why do you say your dad?” He pretends like he can’t feel her gaze penetrating his concentration. 

“Nope, you got your question. It’s my turn now.”

Lorelai makes a noise of indignant frustration. “That wasn’t a second question, it was a follow-up question! There’s a huge difference, my friend. A _huge_ difference!”

Luke grins at her. “You didn’t mention that in the rules.”

“Oh!” Her jaw drops open, surprised that he’s playing along so well more than anything. “It’s an unspoken rule! _Everyone_ knows that each question gets one free follow-up question!”

“Fine,” he replies gruffly, obviously displeased with the rule. “I said my dad because…well, _because_.” He tries to emphasize the last word, put everything he feels about his dad into that one ‘because’ so that Lorelai will just understand. But she’s sitting there and she’s turned in her seat to look at him dead-on. Those blue eyes are sparkling at him, full of curiosity and at the same time, understanding. He doesn’t know how she does it. 

“Because?” she prompts him.

Luke sighs. “Because…you know, he ran that store all by himself, no help from anyone. Not even my mom. I mean, I helped out a bit when my mom died, but he didn’t need it; not really. And he always made sure that we were doing okay, Liz and me, made sure Liz had the clothes she wanted, especially this stupid pair of Doc Martens she had to have in tenth grade. Ugliest things in the world–– he knew it, I knew it…but he got ‘em for her anyway. Just because he knew it was important to her. He came to all of my meets back when I was in high school, even if he and I both knew he had something better to be doing. He just kept everything going…our entire lives, even. He was just a really strong guy, you know? Everybody could depend on him and it didn’t faze him a bit.” His voice drops a bit. “I just hope…”

He glances over in surprise when he feels her hand lightly come to rest on his arm. “You already _are_ like him,” she tells him with a smile, and for some reason, he automatically believes her.

“Yeah, well.” He is embarrassed now, losing his words and his nerve.

“Your turn now!” she exclaims. Luke doesn’t understand how she knows him this well; how she knew to change the subject in order to ease him back in. He doesn’t understand how he’s gotten so lucky.

“My turn, huh? All right, uh…who’s _your_ biggest role model?” He is not sure that he’s playing the game correctly, and he has the feeling that a correction is on its way.

“ _Luuuke_ ,” she scolds. “You can’t ask the same question I asked! That’s not how you play.”

“Okay, fine,” he replies, laughing a little. “Let me think for a minute.”

Lorelai shrugs and turns to look out her window. She does not recognize any of her surroundings, which is strange because they can’t be that far out of Stars Hollow. “Where are we?”

“Lorelai,” he scolds her back. “You don’t get more than one question and one follow-up question in a row. That’s not how you play the game.”

He is thrilled with and encouraged by her warm laughter and he can’t help but let out a chuckle of his own. “Okay. My question is: what is your favorite non-diner food?” 

He asks because he suddenly knows that he wants to cook for her; be waiting for her at home ( _home?_ ) with a meal and a bottle of wine he knows she’ll love. The mental image is so strong in his head that he realizes with a jolt that he is in this one hundred percent. He wonders if he should tell her that and decides that he will when the time is right. He’ll know. 

“Ooh,” she murmurs. “That’s a tough one...I just like food! Isn’t that enough?’

He shakes his head, grins at her sideways. “Come on, Lorelai.”

She hems and haws for a few more moments before finally reaching a conclusion. “Lasagna. I love lasagna in all of its layer-y goodness.”

Luke smiles in spite of himself, remembering back to a time before he opened the diner when he spent a month trying to perfect his lasagna recipe. He knows she doesn’t know this, but he feels pretty confident that he makes the best lasagna in the state. “Lasagna, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Carb-a-licious, cheesy, fattening, delicious lasagna.” She grins at him. “Why, Luke Danes! Are you going to make me dinner?”

“Don’t I cook for you enough?” he grumps, fighting back a laugh. “All I am to you is a coffee, hamburger, and fry fix.”

Again her hand rests on his arm. She is uncharacteristically quiet for a few minutes before she squeezes his arm and says in a small voice, “And so much more.”

He looks over in surprise even as he feels a strange heat rise in his cheeks. Ignoring that he’s blushing–- that Lorelai Gilmore made him blush–- he takes a mental note of the intense look she’s giving him and how she looks more solemn than he’s ever seen her look. He exhales somewhat sharply and turns his attention back to driving. 

The silence hangs in the air as Luke pulls into a parking lot and carefully parks his truck. He unbuckles his seatbelt and stares down at the steering wheel as if it held the answer to life itself. 

“’Sniffy’s Tavern’,” she reads, doubt evident in her tone. “Who’s Sniffy? And why did his parents hate him?”

“Sniffy’s a dog, Lorelai.”

“Oh, right, a dog, of course!” she says, nodding. “I knew that.”

He laughs as he gets out of the car and walks over to her side to open the door for her. Part of him still can’t believe that this is finally happening, but he’s so glad that it is. He opens her door, offers her his hand, and helps her down out of the truck. “Come on. I noticed you didn’t have any kind of snack during the ride; I bet you’re starving.”

She giggles and keeps her hold on his hand, which has a pleasant warming effect on him; almost as if he has just slowly sunk into a bathtub full of hot water, or taken a sip of tea after having been outside in the cold for a long time. He likes the feeling; a lot.

“Luke, wait!” She stops suddenly, causing Luke to jerk to a stop as well. “I wanted to ask you one more question!”

“Lorelai, the restaurant is right there! We are not ten steps from the door!”

“No, this one’s easy, I promise. I just realized that I have never known what your favorite color is!” She looks at him expectantly. “So what is it?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “My favorite color? Are we back in grade school all of a sudden?”

“Please?” she begs. “I want to know!”

“Green. My favorite color is green. Like the grass and the trees and my truck. I like green.” Her eyes light up in this mischievous way that excites and unnerves him at the same time. “Don’t tell me there’s a follow-up question to that.”

“Nope,” she says. “Just interesting. Come on, I really am starving! I didn’t know it was going to be such a long drive–- anything over five minutes and you need to tell me to bring a Pop-Tart.”

He lets her pull him into the tavern, still wondering what the gleam in her eye could have possibly meant.

**********

Later, after dinner and too much champagne, after a tension-filled drive back to Stars Hollow during which she refused to remove her hand from that spot just above his knee, he parks his car outside the diner.

“Uh…you want to come in? For some coffee?” he asks. He immediately wishes that he had thought to clear his throat before speaking–his voice has a weird husky quality to it and he doesn’t want to scare her off.

When she speaks though, her voice has that same quality, and the gleam is back in her eyes. “Coffee would be great.”

They go inside and she doesn’t even let him put up the pretense of going back behind the counter to make coffee. They have only just shut the door before she pulls him in for a searing kiss that makes his mind go all foggy. He doesn’t know how much time passes or how his over-shirt has become unbuttoned until he finally, reluctantly and with much difficulty, pulls away.

“Lorelai,” he chokes. “The windows–- the blinds aren’t down–- people can–”

“Upstairs,” she responds immediately. 

And suddenly _she_ is leading _him_ up to _his_ apartment and it’s not right but it doesn’t feel wrong. He pushes past her to unlock the door, curses his keys for not being more cooperative as she laughs. Finally, the lock clicks and he practically kicks the door open, pulling her in behind him. He pushes her up against the door and brings his lips to her neck. She gasps, a sound he has never heard her make in this context but one he wants to hear many times over again. She threads her fingers through his hair and lets her head fall to the side to allow him room to work his magic.

“Luke,” she sighs, as he tests the waters by licking, sucking, nipping at the spot just above her shoulder. He reaches his hands in between them to work them up under the weird frills and soft cotton of her blouse, but she moves her hands down to his shoulders and pushes him lightly away.

“Wait,” she says slyly as she moves around him and begins moving through the apartment.

“ _Lorelai_ ,” he growls, unsure of what kind of game she’s playing. He takes a few steps towards her and stops, staring at her hungrily. 

She nears his bed before she turns around, smiling the most seductive smile he has ever seen, and it is all he can do to not lunge for her right then and there. “You’ll appreciate this.”

And then she is slowly, painstakingly sliding the blouse up her torso, peeling it off but never losing eye contact until at last, she pulls it over her head and lets it drop on the ground. The gleam is back in her eyes, stronger than ever before, and Luke is left to stare, open-mouthed, at the sight before him. There she is, the object of his desire for eight years running, standing next to his bed in the black pants that cling to her in all the right places, her high heeled sandals still on her feet, her dark hair curling softly down around her shoulders, and–- that. A silk bra that hugs her breasts perfectly, pushing them up slightly, and made in a dark green, almost the same color as his truck, which looks perfect against the ivory of her skin. He struggles to breathe, struggles to swallow, as she smiles and steps closer to him. 

“Luke,” she murmurs, drawing his arms around her waist and pushing herself against him. “You said you liked green, right?"


End file.
